Home is With You
by crypticxmetaphor
Summary: Victor Zsasz has a soft spot...for a girl. This girl, though, she misses her family and has a penchant for bloodshed.
1. Chapter 1

Warming my hands over the barrel fire, I spot him all the way down the street. It wasn't his bald head or the way he walked like he had a mission; he stood out because his clothes were not rags. He was not homeless like the rest of us under the bridge. I watch, careful not to make eye contact as he strides up to the other side of the barrel. He looks at the man and woman on either side of me.

"Leave," he speaks calmly.

They look at me, then at him and scurry away. It was a good thing I never considered them friends in the first place.

"I've spent a lot of time trying to find you," he tells me.

My stomach drops. _How does he know who I am? Is he here to kill me?_ "Who are you?" I growl.

"A fan of your work."

"Um, thank you?" I don't know how to properly respond. "Who are you?"

"Victor Zsasz," he introduces himself. "I was hoping I could convince you to get off the streets."

I laugh so hard I snorted. "I'm from the city's most prominent family and I escaped a sanatorium for the criminally insane only a couple years ago. Sorry, but I like myself too much to just throw self-preservation to the wind."

"No one would touch you," he assures me. "I work for Falcone."

"Bastard's still kicking, huh?" I chuckle. "I appreciate this, but I'm happy out here. No one is looking at what the bums do or what bums go missing. No way I'm going to give that up for mob politics."

His face falls. I think that he wants to shout at me, maybe take me back with him anyway. "I understand," he says, disappointment ringing in his voice. "But if you ever need anything, anything at all, just come find me."

"Thanks, Vic."


	2. Chapter 2

Little Tina tugs on the hem of my coat. "Mary! Mary! There's a man looking for you," she squeaks.

"What man? Where?" I panic and snap my head up.

She doesn't answer, but I see him. Victor is standing down the street, maybe twenty feet away. It's been a couple months since I last saw him, but there he is. He waves, wiggling his fingers at me.

"It's alright, Tina," I tell her. "Go find Solider." Solider was like a grandpa to the street kids when he wasn't passed out, drunk. "What are you doing back here, Vic?" I approach him.

He steps towards me, too breaking into my bubble of personal space. "Did you hear about your parents?"

I hadn't heard anything regarding the Waynes since I hit the streets, but then a terrible thought occurred to me. "Wait; they weren't the rich couple that was just mugged and killed the other night, were they?"

Victor nods.

"And Bruce?" I have to ask.

"Your little brother is still alive. The funeral is going to be the day after tomorrow. It's open to the public," he informs me.

I let out a sigh of relief. "That's great, but I'm not going."

"They're your family?" he sounds confused.

"They'll lock me away again," I argue.

"Are you sure that they would recognize you? You've grown up quite a bit," he observes.

He's right of course. Between 15 and 19, my chest has grown and my hips have gotten wider. I had also lost all of the baby fat in my face, but that might have something to do with not having food to eat. "Thank you for coming out for this, Vic." I turn to go.

"Wait!" he grabs my arm as I begin to walk away.

"What?" I sigh as I turn back to look at him.

He leans in, pressing his forehead against mine. "Happy Birthday," he grins and then takes off.


	3. Chapter 3

"Mackey!" I call. "Cat!" There's no one under the bridge and I begin to worry. These kids are all younger than me; Mackey's the oldest at sixteen and they're all good people. I begin to worry because there are people like me out in the world and believe it or not, the transient community is not actually that nomadic. I notice Soldier sleeping and go to wake him. As I get closer, I notice a pool of dried blood around him. "Shit," I mutter. My heart sinks and sadness wells up inside of me. He might have been an old drunk, be he cared about the kids like I did. He went to fight for this country and came back so fucked up he couldn't keep a job or own a home. Why would someone shoot him when he was so harmless?

"Mary!" Tina toddles up to me.

I think about how little she really is; six? seven? How does she do it out here? "Come on, Tina," I scoop her up, intercepting her before she can see Soldier's body.

"Somebody stole your friends," she tells me.

"What do you mean, stole?"

She shrugs. "I see it all the time. A man and a lady come by and put kids in their van."

I lump forms in my throat that I can't swallow. "I'm going to take you to my place and I want you to promise me you won't ever leave unless I'm with you, okay?"

"I can go to the fort?" she cries excitedly.

Some of the kids called where I slept the fort because it was hidden away behind a fence in an alley. It was easy to defend and not easy to spot. I never shared with anyone and no one ever bothered me. "Only if you promise," I tell her.

"I promise!"

I sigh. I kind of ran away, but how could anyone abandon their little girl?


	4. Chapter 4

I broke into Wayne Manor to see if I could figure out what was going on with the murder of Martha and Thomas Wayne because it would be easier than breaking into the precinct and maybe I could nick a blanket for Tina.

I see Alfred first, he hasn't changed. Bruce, though, he was only nine the last time I saw him; rounder and shorter. They are talking to a man. He looks like a solider. Listening in, I discern he is a cop and he is promising justice to Bruce.

I slip upstairs to my old bedroom. Nothing has changed their either. I knew my parents wouldn't have changed it. They would have thought it callous to renovate it into an office or home-gym. Still, they must have known I could never come back, not after what I did. I open the closet door, grab a blanket from the top shelf and stuff it into my backpack. I'm gone, disappearing out the window in a moment without looking back.


	5. Chapter 5

I pound on the townhouse door which is answered by a scantily clad girl only a couple years older than myself. She steps aside and lets me in. I'm surprised, but I don't mind getting out of the cold, fall air. "Is Vic here?" I ask.

"Vic?" she echoes, stunned.

"Yeah. Is he here?" I repeat, thinking she's stupid. "He told me to come by if I needed anything and I need something."

"Who are you?" she demands.

I narrow my eyes at her. "A friend. Who are you?"

"An associate," she hisses, taking a threatening step forward which I respond to by flicking open my switchblade.

At that moment, Victor comes hurdling down the stairs. "Mary!" he grins widely, tackling me in a hug. "This is Mary Wayne," he introduces me to his "associate."

The girl steps back at the mention of my name and steps aside as Victor leads me into another room.

"What can I do for you?" he asks.

"I need information," I tell him.

He laughs. "I'm a hitman, not a snitch. My trade is in violence."

I roll my eyes at him. "Yes, but you work for Falcone which means you hear things." I look at his hands as I speak, his slender fingers. I wonder how much older he is than me when I notice the blood trickling from his wrist down his thumb. Before he can respond, I step forward and roll up his sleeve to see where the blood is coming from. His forearm is covered in scars that make up tally marks, one of which was still bleeding.

"I must have cut too deep," he shrugs.

"Too deep?" I cry. "You need stitches!"

He stares at me dangerously.

"Like I would make you go to a hospital," I say reading his mind. I push him back into a chair. "I can do it."

"Upstairs bathroom. Under the sink," he sighs knowing that he won't win the fight.

I brought back a washcloth, some antiseptic, a needle, and thread. I kneel down in front of him and begin to clean the wound.

"What information do you need?" he asks, not even flinching when I push the needle through his skin.

"There's a cop that's been talking to my baby brother; Gordon," I tell him.

"I'll see what I can find out," he says as I cut the thread.

"How many are there?" I ask as he stands and rolls his sleeve back down.

"Twenty-seven."

"Looks like I have some catching up to do," I chuckle. "And thank you," I say like it has become my traditional farewell.

"You should stay," he tries to stop me.

I shake my head. "Not this time."


	6. Chapter 6

I hate cops. This guy in particular. I couldn't understand why he was giving me such a hard time when it was only shoplifting. It wasn't even from a high-end department store. I stole Spaghetti O's.

"Why Spaghetti O's? I know, they were for your kid, right. Tina?" the pig asks.

I snarl at him. How do they know about Tina?

"Don't worry. We're gonna find a nice home for her. You, on the other hand, Miss Wayne, are going away forever. We've been looking for you for a long time. Do you think your brother will come to say goodbye or not? You did miss your parents' funeral after all," he prods, trying to anger me.

"I want my phone call," I reply calmly.

"Yeah, fat chance," he chortles.

"Would you rather I lawyer up? I know my rights. Besides, if I killed them, there would have been a lot more blood," I lean in, making the man uncomfortable.

He sighs and lets me make the call, hovering as I dial.

"I also have the right to privacy. "I stare at him until he moves out of earshot. I call the operated to be transferred to Victor. I'm surprised and relieved that he's listed. I curse when I get his voicemail. "Hey, Vic. I hate asking big favors like this, but I got picked up by the GCPD. Any chance you can come down to the precinct and bust me out of this holding cell?"

I hang up the phone and the cop comes back to move me to the holding cell. He's done questioning me; I've already been convicted. I just need to get sent back to the sanatorium, although Arkham is reopening and Bruce will probably try to get me there. He undoes my handcuffs before locking me up.

"Don't worry," he winks. "You won't be here long."

The doors to the precinct opens and Victor walks in flanked by two girls, one I had already met. He raps on a desk to get everyone's attention. He climbs up on a desk, so he is seen by everyone. "Hello everyone, my name is Victor Zsasz," he calls. "I'm sent here personally by Don Carmine Falcone himself, on a matter of deep concern to him so please be respectful. I'm here for Jim Gordon, only him. Everybody else, mind your business and we're cool. So where's Jim at?"

The whole of the bullpen looks up at the captain's office.

"Thank you. Hey, Jim!" he yells. "Jiiiim. Hi, Jim," he smiles creepily when the detective emerges from the office. "Relax, I'm supposed to take you in alive. Don Falcone wants to talk."

"Tell Falcone we'll talk, but not today," Jim replies, still standing on the balcony.

"Don't be that way," Victor whines. "Alive is a very broad category. A man with no hands can still be alive."

"There are fifty cops in here; try something!" Jim dares.

"Everybody out," Victor says, but nobody moves. "Please!"

They all begin to file out, including the captain. I bang on the bars and Victor motions to one of the girls. She aims her gun at the cage's lock. Instinctively, I stood back as she fired. I push open the broken door and stand behind Victor's group.

"Well, how now, Jim," Victor reaches for his weapon and I drop, being unarmed myself.

Jim fires first and Victor backflips off of the desk. My heart begins to race. He's amazing.

The firefight escalates and then Jim flees. I follow Victor following him into the parking lot and remain standing by the door, out of the way.

"Jim?" Victor whistles. "Why are you hiding from me, Jim?"

A female uni walks in on the scene. "Hey, what the-"

She is shot in the knee by the girl that broke me out. The other girl shoots the uni in the other thigh. The woman looks to me for help, but I just shrug and act like she's not there.

"There!" One of the girls cries having spotted Jim.

Victor sees him running and shoots. Jim collapses, but before Victor can finish the job, a car careens around the corner, blocking Jim from the killer's view. Whoever is driving the car begins firing at Victor and a gunfight breaks out. But just as soon as they had arrived, they leave, taking Jim Gordon with them.

Victor turns his attention to the woman crying on the ground.

"No, please!" she begs.

Victor shoots her, directly in the heart. Then, he rolls up his sleeve and takes out a box cutter. He makes a short incision on his forearm. "Twenty-eight," he murmurs. "What happened?" he asks me, caressing my cheek.

"Shoplifting," I grumble, embarrassed.

"Let's go," he grabs my hand and takes me back to his place.

I let him. They had taken Tina, there's no need for me to go back to the fort.


	7. Chapter 7

I finish getting cleaned up and Victor is sitting, waiting for me. I walk up to him and straddle his lap. I feel him harden instantly. I don't know why I want him, but I do. When he would come visit me on the streets, I could only think about him touching me even after he left.

"What are you doing?" he asks as I run my hands down his chest.

"Isn't this what you want from me?" I question, concerned I had slipped up. Why else would he go through so much trouble to help me out if he didn't think he was getting anything out of it? I knew enough girls who turned tricks to know how things work.

"No!" he protests. "Well, yes, but not-"

I stop, but don't get off him. "You're not making sense."

"You're beautiful, of course I want you," he lets himself run his hands up my thighs. "But I don't want you to think you owe me or you have to pay me back like this."

"And if I told you I'm just attracted to you?" I begin rubbing myself against him.

He considers for a moment, but doesn't resist, before saying: "Then I am going to take you make you mine."


	8. Chapter 8

"Come," Victor tosses a shirt over to me.

I don't question at first and follow him to his car. "Where are we going?" I ask when I notice we're heading out of town.

"Falcone's. It's probably best if you don't ask questions," he tells me.

"One last one then: will murder be involved?"

He looks over at me as we pull up in front of the massive house. "Possibly."

ǂǂǂǂǂ

The small kitchen where we're keeping Barbara, Jim's girlfriend, feels cramped with four people. Liza, Falcone's maid? girlfriend? is baking. I sit at the island with Barbra, her hands are bound in front of her with rope and she looks like she's going to be sick. It's pathetic. I bet she bleeds well. Victor is leaning with his back to the countertop while Liza pulls muffins out of the oven.

"Those smell good," Victor leers.

"None for you, creep," Liza moves away from him. "But she can have one if she wants."

My stomach turns and I want to punish her for how she speaks to Victor, but I was told when I arrived that she is one not to be harmed.

"No thank you," Barbara mumbles.

Funkytown begins to play and Victor reaches into his inner jacket pocket and opens his flip phone. I giggle and Victor smiles gently at me, listening to his phone.

"Got it," Victor hangs up and looks at Barbara. "What a shame."

Barbara gasps, suddenly terrified. What was left of her resolve had vanished.

"Bring her out," he orders me. "Falcone has Jim."

We push her forward into what I guess would be a living room. Jim Gordon is there and his cop partner. Falcone stands in front of them, several of his cronies behind, and the mayor was there as well.

"I'm sorry if she was mistreated a little. We had to be sure she had nothing useful to tell us," Falcone explains. "Untie her, Victor."

Victor takes the ropes from her wrists and she runs over to Jim, apologizing.

"What am I gonna do with you?" Falcone asks Jim. "By rights you have to die."

I elbow Victor, excited, and he grins.

"Woah, hello, um, late for work," the mayor panics at the mention of murder and excuses himself. "I'll be one my way."

"Such a waste though," Falcone sighs. "Gotham needs men like you, both of you. Strong men with principles. I wish I could show you I'm not the enemy. The system is not the enemy, the enemy is anarchy. But I told you that before, didn't I, Jim?"

Victor crosses his arms, annoyed. He brought me out because he thought there would be killing; there would be blood.

"Yes you did," Jim admits to Falcone.

"There is still hope for you," the Don says and Jim looks at him incredulously. "Yes. Go. Get out of here before I change my mind."

"Wait a minute!" Victor protests.

"Quiet!" Falcone orders. "It's been a pleasure, Barbara. I do admire a brave woman."

"I'm sorry," Victor whispers to me.

I sigh. "It's alright. Violent crime happens in Gotham all the time. Just not this time."


	9. Chapter 9

I can't help but to visit the manor again. I heard a lot of talk when I was on the street and if Bruce wasn't safe, I'd need to know who to kill. This time, while I spied into the library. I saw Bruce was with a girl. He was speaking with Cat. I could feel jealousy boiling up inside of me. I lurk through the house. My room still hasn't been touched, but one of the guest's rooms has been occupied.

 _How could she?_ _How dare she?_

This is my family she is messing with; my little brother. Cat is good-hearted, but she is not nice and she does not deserve to live here. I look around the room; there isn't much I can do, not at the moment anyway. She's too young to bleed out; I'd never kill anyone younger than me. I toss the few belongings she has into the fireplace and toss in a match. As soon as I see that they are catching, I disappear from the property, back to Victor.

ǂǂǂǂǂ

I'm sitting on the hood of the car, waiting for Victor in the convenience store across the street. We were out of things like bread and milk so he wanted to just stop while we were out. I waited because of security cameras.

"Mary!" Cat runs up to me. "Where have you been? I though the child snatchers got you!"

"I think I'm a bit old for them," I sneer.

"Well they almost got me! But I outsmarted them," she brags. "You're not gonna believe what's happened to me."

I swipe her legs out from under her and pin her face against the car. "I know exactly what's happened to you and if you were a little older, I'd slit your throat," I growl. "You have a couple more years and then you better hope you never see me again." I let her up and she backs away. "Stay the fuck away from my family."

She scrambles away as Victor unlocks the car doors.

"You let her run?" he asks.

"I'm not gonna murder a thirteen year old."


	10. Chapter 10

Back at Falcone's mansion, I stood with Victor. I lean against the sitting room doorway, picking clean my nails with a knife. Victor is more uneasy about the situation. Fish Mooney has kidnaped Liza and is blackmailing Falcone to step down. I'm all for letting the little bitch die.

Victor stands next to me, behind Falcone's chair. "Sir, let me go to work," he begs.

"No," Falcone answers simply.

"No?" Victor growls.

"If Fish and the others- and there must be others, if they all want me to step away so badly, maybe it's time," he explains. "Why not? Why am I still here? Fighting for what?"

Victor moves in front of Falcone, in between his boss and the fireplace. "For respect," he answers. "You're Don Carmine Falcone."

"Respect? Who cares," Falcone replies. "They all want me to go live in the country with Liza. I would like that. That's what I want, too, so why not do it?"

Victor shows his frustration by curling his hands into fists and then relaxing. "Please, don't talk that way, sir," he speaks through gritted teeth. "We could take out Fish's crew, easy."

"You're not listening, Victor. Your job is to keep me and Liza safe through the coming transaction. That's all," Falcone says.

"Yes, sir," Victor sighs and circles back around the chair towards me.

I raise my eyebrows at him. Contracts. Politics. He shouldn't be surprised.

He sighs again.

"Hush, young man," Falcone scolds. "I can hear you sigh."

"Sorry, Sir," he apologies. "It's just my girl gets bored when there's no bloodshed."

"Are you scared of her?" Falcone asks about me, motioning for me to join them.

"Honestly, Sir, she's just as likely to kill you as she is me," Victor admits.

I smile and Falcone tries to hide the fact that he's uncomfortable. "Is that true?" Falcone asks me.

"I like to make jerks bleed," I grin.

The Penguin's arrival interrupts us. Victor silently threatens the man by coming within an inch of Penguin's face.

"Let him be," Falcone orders. "It's good to see you old friend."

The Penguin knelt down in front of Falcone. "I am so sorry it took me so long to get here. Such a day I've had. I won't even tell you, but I'm here."

"You were right about Fish," Falcone tells him. "It's her that's taken Liza"

"Sir, allow me. I must tell you what I've discovered. You're not gonna wanna hear this," he explains to the Don.

"Speak," Falcone commands.

Penguin doesn't hesitate. "Liza was planted on you by Fish. She belongs to Fish. This was a setup from the start. She found a girl that looked just like your mother and trained her to-"

Falcone slaps Penguin across the face midsentence. "No!"

"I'm sorry!" Penguin cries.

"Prove it," Falcone demands.

"How?" asks the Penguin. "I can't. I just know."

"You're wrong!" Falcone growls.

"When have I been wrong?" he challenges.

The phone rings and Falcone answers immediately. "Hello, Fish- Yes. Is she there? Is Liza there now? Can I speak to her?- What time?- I'll be there."

"You're not gonna just waltz over there, are you?" I ask.

Falcone chuckles. "Victor round up your crew. She'll have men outside; I want them dead. I'll go in first. To talk. See if what the Penguin's saying is true. If Liza has indeed betrayed me, then you can come inside. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir," Victor smiles.


	11. Chapter 11

In the car, Victor hands me a gun. "You might need this."

I refuse to take it from him. It's a terrifying piece of equipment.

"It's clean, unregistered. Perfectly safe for a criminal like you to use," he explains when he sees my hesitation.

"I don't know how to use it," I admit. "I like knives."

Vic's eyes widen. They were already so big, I had no idea that was possible. "You killed a dozen people with only a knife?! How did you keep them from running while you bleed them out?"

I smile sheepishly back at him. "I'm not taking your gun."

ǂǂǂǂǂ

I don't enjoy the efficient kill that Victor is so proud of. I'd rather slice open each major artery, but now I'm doing a job so I have to check myself after I stab the first guy in the neck. All of the men are cleared out and we circle around the building, paring off to cover exits.

On Victor's cue, I follow. He aims his gun at Butch, whistling to get his attention.

"I'm sorry, Liza," Falcone is saying. "Is that your name? I'm sorry you had to get mixed up in this cause I'm sure you're a good, honest girl, really." Falcone reaches out and strangles her. "I want these two alive for now," he orders referring to Fish and Butch. "Lock them up someplace."

"Carmine, you have to understand-" Fish begs.

Falcone holds up a hand to silence her. "I can forgive all kinds of betrayal and dishonestly, but my mother? How dare you use my sainted mother against me? That's wrong! You'll suffer for that. Thank you, Fish. For the first time in a long time, I feel alive. I remember who I am. I remember why I'm here."

ǂǂǂǂǂ

Before we drive off, Victor rolls up his sleeve. I watch intently as he adds three more lines. The blood pools up where he breaks the skin, but it doesn't drip or run. I think he's on thirty-one.

"You don't mark yourself," he comments. "Do you keep track at all?"

"Eighteen," I say.


	12. Chapter 12

I don't know any names of the people Victor works with, but they come and go from the house all the time. None of the girls like me very much, but I deal.

"What are you doing here anyway?" the tall, tan one sneers. "You're just a street rat turned into a fuck-toy."

"Watch your mouth," I growl. "Or you're gonna regret talking to me like that."

She laughs and I punch her, aiming my fist right for her temple so she goes down. She's still conscious, but too hurt to move.

"I don't like rude people," I hiss and drag her down to the basement.

Downstairs has a cement floor, designed for disposal. It's where Victor brings people he wants to torture. No one is there know and I hang her upside down from the ceiling. I bring out my knife and being slicing her open. I save the carotid for last.

"Mary!" I hear Victor's voice call from upstairs. "Where are you?"

"Down here, Vic!" I call back as the last of the girl's blood dribbles from her.

He sighs when he reaches the bottom of the stairs. "Did she deserve it?"

"She deserved more."

He moves to get the body down. "You couldn't make an exception for one of mine?"

"She told me I was nothing but a street rat, that I was only your fuck-toy," I answer.

"You know that's not true." He puts a hand on my hip and pulls me into him.

"I know," I breathe out and he leans down to kiss me.


	13. Chapter 13

Victor takes me with him and a couple of the girls to go check on Fish Mooney. She's currently in the custody of Bob, the infamous torturer. When we get there, Fish is gone and Bob is on the ground, choking on his own blood. It's a disaster.

"What happened here?" Victor demands of him.

"Call Falcone!" Bob tells him.

Victor rolls his eyes. "No kidding," he says and then shoots Bob in the forehead, instantly killing him. "Now we're back to square one."

"She probably went after Penguin. Revenge and all," I suggest.

"And where would we find Penguin?" he asks me.

I shrug, thinking about what I would do since I'm not above revenge. "Probably putting his name on her club."

ǂǂǂǂǂ

No one notices us walk into Mooney's although Fish and Butch are both there and Penguin is whimpering on the floor. Victor raises his gun above his head and fires a shot into the air to get their attention. "Hello. Seems like Mooney's is the place to be today."

Butch fires, but misses Victor. I stay low, unable to fire back and wait for the firefight to play out or for an opportunity to get closer. Butch gives up and drags Fish out of the room towards the back of the building. Our group pursues.

"You okay?" I ask Penguin as I pass by.

He nods at me so I continue on behind Victor.

When we reach the back room, it's only Butch. "Hello again." Victor shoots him in the leg and he goes down. "Where is she?" he demands.

Butch doesn't answer. He only laughs at us.

"What do you think?" he asks me. "Should we kill him or take him home to play with?"

"Let's play," I grin.


	14. Chapter 14

"Where are you going?" Victor asks, noticing that I'm all bundled up.

I try to come up with a lie, but I pause too long for anything I say to be believable. "It's the annual Wayne hike. Bruce and Thomas would camp out overnight and watch the sunrise. If Bruce keeps the tradition, he'll be going alone and that's not safe," I explain reluctantly.

He steps aside, letting me go. "You should be careful," he says.

ǂǂǂǂǂ

I make it to the forest before Bruce and I remain hidden, watching from a distance. I wish that it's spring, not because of the cold, but because then there'd be leaves on the trees and I could get closer. Bruce picks up a rock and puts it in his pocket. He starts to leave, but turns and grabs a second stone before he hikes up the hill.

I'm out of breath only a quarter of the way up the hill. I had never realized I wasn't actually in shape.

When we get to the top, I notice two piles of rocks on a log. One is much larger than the other and they're not natural formations. Bruce puts one of his rock on each. I guess it's part of their tradition. He spends some time, looking at the larger pile, picks up one of the rocks from the larger pile, turns it over and then chucks it. He lets out a wail and knocks over both piles.

My heart aches and I want to go to him, but I know that's the worst idea I have had in a long time.

I watch as he takes another step and falls over the edge of the hill. It seems to be happening in slow motion. "Bruce!" I yell and run after him.

He tumbles down the hill while I slide gracefully behind him. We reach the bottom, and he's too concerned with his ankle to notice me. He winces as he pulls up the cuff of his pants and it looks broken.

"Brucey?" I ask gently.

He starts at the sound of my voice. "Mary?"

My eyes well up with tears. "How you doing, kid?"

"Mary!" he reaches up and hugs me. "Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry, Brucey, I'm so sorry." I hold on to him. "We have to get you out of here, though," I say, trying to pick him up.

He pushes away from me. "No! I can't go. I have to see the sunrise. Dad and I always watched the sunrise."

I frown, but don't move him.

"Will you come home in the morning?" Bruce asks.

"You know I can't," I sigh.

"Why?" he whines.

"Because they'll send me away again," I explain. "Don't you remember? I'm not a good person."

It's Bruce's turn to frown. "I know, but you're my family."

My phone rings. I jump, startled that I even had service. Victor is on the other end. "What's up?" I ask.

"I'm here, working on Butch, thinking about how much you'd enjoy being here, but you're in a forest, spying on your brother," he answers.

"And?" I'm not sure where he's going with this. _Is he trying to start a fight_?

"You've been gone awhile. Are you okay?" he asks. "Can you come back?"

"I'm fine," I answer, but hesitate to tell him I can't come back.

"It's fine," Bruce tells me. "Go. I was gonna do this on my own anyway."

"Are you sure?"

He nods. "But you have to promise to come visit."

"I promise." I kiss his forehead. "I'll be home soon," I tell Victor.


	15. Chapter 15

A young woman is playing the violin for the Penguin when Victor and I walk in.

"Hello, Penguin," Victor grins.

"Victor, how nice," Penguin says through gritted teeth.

I head for the bar immediately and begin mixing drinks together. "Any requests?" I call.

"If you can make a half-decent martini, I'll give you a job," Penguin challenges.

"Coming right up, sir," I grin.

"Don Falcone thinks you're messing up," Victor tells Penguin. "You don't know how to run a club. Your numbers stink."

"With all due respect-" Penguin begins.

Victor interrupts him: "I didn't come here to talk!"

"Good manners cost nothing, you know?" he sneered in response as I handed him the drink. He sips and pauses. "Welcome to the team."

Victor whistles, annoyed that Penguin is giving me attention. Butch appears at the command and Penguin nearly falls over in fright. Victors laughs. "Relax, he's harmless," he says. "Say hi, Butch."

"Hi," Butch obeys.

"Falcone didn't want to throw him away, so I worked on him in my basement for a couple of weeks," Victor explains. "He's a whole new man. Right, Butch?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Zsasz."

I take a sip of the drink I made for myself. "Butch knows how to run a club. That's why he's here; to help," I tell Penguin.

"But he's-he's Butch Gilzean," Penguin protests. "He's loyal to Fish Mooney."

"And he'll do exactly what you say," Victor tells him.

"Hey, Butch, dance for me!" Penguin grins.

Butch awkwardly begins to move in a kind of jig. I can't help, but laugh.

"I do good work," Victor says proudly.

"You do!" I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

"Tomorrow at six," Penguin tells me, dismissing us.


	16. Chapter 16

Victor blocked my exit from the house. "I really wish you'd let me teach you to shoot," he says. "Especially if you're going to be working at Oswald's."

I wrinkle my nose. "21 feet."

He sighs. "And if you're outside of 21 feet? What then?"

"Then I run." I reach up to kiss him and he kisses me back.

ǂǂǂǂǂ

"Penguin!" I wave my new boss over to the bar. "We're out of alcohol."

"So order more!" he hisses.

"We did, but-"

Butch interrupts: "It's Maroni's booze and he's a bit grumpy with you these days."

"He was hardly a fan of Fish either," Penguin points out. "Why did he sell her booze?"

"Business is business, but he hates you with a passion," Butch says.

"This is ridiculous!" Penguin cries. "There's a thousand places to buy booze."

I lean over the counter to interject. "If you're gonna go get some alcohol, I suggest you go soon."

ǂǂǂǂǂ

They return a couple hours later with a whole new supply of alcohol. Butch pulls out a bottle and two glasses. I watch as I help restock the bar.

"To new beginnings," Butch declares.

Penguin sniffs his drink.

"I'm not trying to poison you, son," Butch says.

"Forgive me if I'm a little cautious," Penguin frowns.

Butch sighs, tired of explaining things. "If this club tanks, Falcone's not gonna trust either one of us again. I don't know about you, but I'm done playing the sidekick."

"To no longer being a sidekick," they clink their glasses. "Do you miss her?" Penguin asks. "I do. Even after everything she did to me. Perhaps it's not our friends, but our enemies that define us. To Fish," he toasts.

"She go what she deserved," Butch replies and downs his drink. He puts the glass back on the counter and leaves.

Penguin fills Butch's glass and pushes it towards me. "So you need to tell me about yourself. Are you even old enough to be serving alcohol?"

"Serving," I answer. "Not selling."

"Well, I suppose that's the least of the problems with this establishment," Penguin shrugs. "What else? Zsasz calls you Mary?"

"Mary Wayne. Yes, that Mary Wayne." It had been four years, but there has yet to be a horrific crime that will top mine, leaving it fresh in everyone's minds.


	17. Chapter 17

I look at Alfred lying on the gurney. He looks dead. I double check that my hood is covering my face from anyone walking by. Rumors have already begun circulating that Mary Wayne has been spotted. I gently tap on the window. Bruce turns around and grins. He comes to the door but I shake my head. Instead I breathe on the window and draw a heart. We used to write messages to each other the same way when I was younger. He waits, watching me. When the heart fades, I disappear.

ǂǂǂǂǂ

I feel Victor climb in bed beside me. He kisses my shoulder and I turn around to snuggle up to him. "Where have you been?" I murmur.

"I can ask the same thing of you," he replies. "I don't like it when you go see your brother. Someone's gonna notice. They're gonna take you away from me."

I caress his face. "No one's gonna take me away from you. Not after all the trouble you went through to get me."

He leans in and kisses me and rolls on top of me. I lift his shirt over his head and he presses his body against mine. "Victor," I moan as he trails his kisses down my body.


	18. Chapter 18

I like the way Penguin redid Falcone's mansion; much more Gothic. He liked me better than Falcone did anyway. Maybe that's why over the past month I have become more of a partner to Victor even though being with him has decreased my bloodlust.

Tonight, we are on a mission for Penguin. We need to convince Commissioner Loeb to Gordon be a detective again. I don't understand why the Penguin is friends with him. Everyone knows honest men are dangerous.

The house is dark, but the three of us are able to slip into the house without a sound. There's one guard, in the kitchen. I cut his throat and he goes down. Victor takes the liberty of removing the head completely, somehow managing to remain blood free.

The ruckus he caused, got the commissioner out of bed. Because moments later, Loeb was in the kitchen, looking vulnerable in his pajamas.

"Hi!" Victor emerges from behind him.

"Do you have peanut butter?" Penguin asks abruptly, causing me to giggle.

"What?" Loeb scoffs.

"Peanut butter," Penguin repeats. "Smooth, for preference."

The absurdity of this request somehow jolts the commissioner into reality. "Guard!" he yells. "Guard, help!"

Victor bends down and picks up the head to show Loeb that his guard was already here. "Hi, boss." He holds the head by its hair and moves the jaw up and down. "How about a bottle of beer?"

Penguin chuckles maliciously and Victor callously dumbs the head in the kitchen sink.

"Let me share a dilemma with you," Penguin speaks while making himself a sandwich. "May I? I need you to do something for me that I know you won't want to do."

"What is it?" the commissioner asks, uncomfortable, but not frightened.

"With most people there's no problem, I find their weaknesses and use violence or blackmail to persuade them," Penguin explains. "But you, you are a man of monkish virtue, you have no vices to expose so threats of personal violence only harden your resolve, huh?"

"No that," the commissioner begins to plead.

Penguin slams his hand on the table, interrupting. "Come! Sir, don't be modest. You are a rare animal, but that does lead us to a sad pickle. So, since I can't persuade you to do as I ask, the only rational option is to kill you and negotiate with whomever replaces you as commissioner."

"Now, chief?" Victor draws his gun.

"One moment, Victor!" Penguin huffs. "The commissioner needs more time to process all this, say a prayer or what have you."

I'm beginning to get antsy. He's a terrible person, why don't we just kill him already?

"What would you have me do?" The commissioner demands.

"It's not worth talking about it," Penguin brushes off the request. "You wouldn't do it."

"Tell me!" Loeb growls.

"I need my friend, Jim Gordon, reinstated as a detective," Penguin admits and Loeb bursts out in laughter. "See! You hate that idea."

"No!" the commissioner protests. "I-I'll do it."

I begin throwing my knife into the wooden cabinet and pulling it out again, enjoying the dull thud it made each time. Victor glares at me, but I don't stop. We've been here too long.

Penguin sighs. "I can tell you're not sincere. You might do as I ask now, but somewhere down the line, you'll change your mind and turn on him again."

"Want me to kill him now?" Victor asks.

"No!" Penguin answers, scathingly. "I want you to make him a cheese toasty! Yes! Kill him now, please."

"I just wanted to be clear," Victor defends himself and aims the gun at Loeb's forehead.

"No, Wait!" the man cries. "Let's talk about this!"

Penguin shrugs. "Sorry, least worst option. Unless of course, no, you would never agree."

"Agree to what?" Loeb's voice is panicky.

"Retirement," Penguin's grin spreads across his face as Victor lowers his gun.

The commissioner agrees and with a final threat, we leave his house.

ǂǂǂǂǂ

"You're not marking yourself," I comment to Victor back at home. I'm sitting on the bed, exhausted and ready to sleep while he gets changed.

"You're the one who killed him," he shrugs.

"You took off his head!" I laugh.

He climbs into bed next to me. "He was your kill when you cut his throat. I can't take the credit for his death. Come here," he wraps his arms around me.

 _Nineteen to thirty-three_ I think and I fall asleep with my head on his shoulder and his hand on my waist. I'm calm and I feel safe.


	19. Chapter 19

I'm sitting on the dining room table with Victor standing in front of me. He has a hand on the table on either side of me and I'm holding onto his face as I kiss him. His phone begins ringing and he pulls away from me. I bop along to the beat, but try to pull him back to me.

"Yes, sir," Victor ends the call. "How would you like to kill a politician?" he asks me.

Honestly I would have rather have him undress me, but I agreed to go anyway.

Victor parks outside of Hobbs's campaign center. He gets out of the car and then walks around to my side and opens the door for me. I follow him into the building. He pokes his head into the room where Hobbs's headquarters were located. He casually wanders into the room and I follow him again. He observes the campaign posters while I size up the eight men. Seven out of shape bodyguards and Hobbs.

"Who the hell are you?" Hobbs demands.

"Oh! I came here to volunteer," Victor grins.

Hobbs observes the guns holstered at Victors sides and the knives at my hips. "Well run back to whoever hired you. Tell them I'm not going anywhere. This city needs me!"

Victor leaned back on a desk while the man spoke. I remained supporting myself, but next to Victor. As Hobbs speaks, he remains uninterested: "Oh! Cool pins!" He notices a basket on the desk. He reaches in, pulls a couple out, sticking one on myself and handing the other to me.

"Thanks, babe," I inspect it and then pin it on my own jacket.

"Count, idiots," one of the other men say. "There's eight of us."

"I know," Victor stands and begins to reach for his weapons. "Hardly seems fair."

I rush them as they draw their own guns, but too late. I am able to take out two of them and Victor shoots three before the remaining two bodyguards and Hobbs flee. Chasing them down the hall, I threw one of my daggers. It hit one of the bodyguards in the back of his neck. I pull it out as I run by and Victor shoots the final body guard just as we push through the back exit. We run right out in front of a cop car.

"GCPD! Put down your weapons!"

I recognize one of the cops as Gordon. But before I can get close enough four SWAT guys come out towards us. I duck behind a car for cover and Victor follows.

"We're out gunned," I point out the obvious. "We should just cut our losses."

He shakes his head. "I'm used to doing this alone. Even without a gun, you're more useful than not. But you're going to take this anyway." He hands me the weapon from his ankle holster. Before I can protest he moves out from cover, firing with two guns.

I watch the strikeforce cover Hobbs, but Victor is able to hit one of them in the leg. His fire is reciprocated and a bullet hits him in the left shoulder. He falls down and I panic. I aim the gun and fire, hitting the fire hydrant and causing the water to explode and visually shield us from the law enforcement. I rush over to him and pick him up off the ground. "We need to go." I drag him back to the car. As I go to put him in the passenger's seat, I realize I never learned how to drive.

"I'm fine," he tells me. "I'm still capable of walking and driving."

He is silent on the drive back to his house. I point this out to him and he only grunts. Inside, I prepare to remove the bullet for him and sew him up without a word; like it's expected of me. As I sit in front of him with his blood on my hands, I try again: "What's wrong?"

"I failed," he sighs. "Hobbs still lives."

"We weren't prepared for fucking homeland security to be there. You can't blame yourself for that." I find it is hard to comfort and give advice about something I have no emotional investment in. I did not enjoy these "hits" as I did kills I could take time with nor did I understand the concept of "failing" because Hobbs still happens to be alive.

"Hand me that blade?" he asks about the knife I use to cut the thread.

I flip it over so he can grab the hilt. He takes advantage of his moment of shirtlessness and uses the knife to draw four more lines on his arm.

"Thirty-seven," he mumbles and hands my knife back to me. "Mary why are you here with me?"

Because I had never known someone to accept me for what I am, for what I have done. Even more than that, he likes the dark side of me. Though I don't say that to him because right now I'm extremely irritated. When I get irritated I begin to imagine blood running through my fingers, so I remove myself from the situation. "If you don't stop feeling sorry for yourself, I'm going to start asking the same question."


	20. Chapter 20

I climb into the manor through one of the second story windows and find Bruce alone in the study. "Hey, Brucey," I smile.

"Hey," he stands, startled. "Please don't call me that. What are you doing here?"

My smile falters. "I thought you wanted me to visit?"

"Yeah, well I'm not a kid anymore. It's dangerous for you to be here," he says.

"I know you're not. You got fucking tall," I observe. Since the last time I saw him he had grown about six inches.

He steps back and avoids looking me in the eye. "You should go."

"Do you want me to?" I frown.

"You sent Cat away!"

"She was using you," I point out.

He shakes his head, refusing to believe me. "Just get out."

"Your house," I began backing towards the window. "But if you change your mind, Brucey, you'll be able to find me." I climbed out of the window, feeling crushed. Vic had been right: visiting my old home was a stupid idea.


	21. Chapter 21

I wipe down the top of the bar as the last patron exits Oswald's.

Butch pushes through the crowd into the building thudding his heavy wooden hand on the bar. "I don't think this place could survive another re-branding, but Oswald's is now owned by Butch."

"Can I keep my job?" I ask. It's disheartening news that Oswald would not be around, but so long as I keep my job and Victor I can't care less what was going on around me.

"You tortured me," he scoffs

I continue cleaning up, knowing Butch will respond better if this conversation is casual. "No, Victor did. I don't torture. I blood-let and then you die."

"They should call you Dracula," he chuckles. "Alright, Drac. But if I see that boy of yours around the club he's dead."

It seems a reasonable deal and I say so: "Fair enough, boss." I finish doing my job and return home to Vic.

He's waiting up for me, holding a glass of red wine. The lights are dim, but they still glint off his head. I'm startled when I see his figure seated in the living room. I had expected him to have gone to bed now that it was drawing on three in the morning.

"Are you alright?" I ask.

"I don't like you working at Oswald's without Oswald. I was worried," he explains.

I gently take the glass from his hand and place it on the nearest table. "I'm good, Vic, you don't need to worry about me." I bend over and kiss him. The kisses start softly and then I begin trailing them from his jaw to his neck. There is a sharp intake of breath and he pulls me onto his lap. He's hard as I grind against him.

"Mary," he breathes into my neck as I reach between his legs to undo his pants.


End file.
